


Be As You Are

by hubflower



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anxiety Disorder, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7914553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hubflower/pseuds/hubflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deacon is sent on an intelligence mission to a closed vault, he's just glad to have a chance to finally relax; however, when the earth begins to shake, and a person appears, he learns that it'll be the last time he has a chance to relax in a long time.</p><p>Virginia couldn't believe her eyes when the sun first hits her face, but the only thing she cares about is finding her son, but when she finds herself vaulted into a terrifying world of mutated monsters and a lack of a decent pharmacy, her deep-seated anxiety, which before was in check, rages uncontrollably, distracting her from her task.</p><p>MacCready wants nothing to do with anybody.  He just wants to find the cure for Duncan and get the hell out of dodge.  He was ready to feel needed again, but little did he know he'd be needed right there in the Commonwealth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be As You Are

Propping his feet up on the small lean-to, Deacon settled back in his chair and readjusted his sunglasses.  He still wasn't sure why Des had sent _him_  of all people out here.  It was a simple intelligence gathering mission, and it didn't even involve any verbal tete-a-tete.  Any of the agents could have done this, but Des had absolutely insisted, so here he was.  Bored out of his mind with nobody to talk to.  Occasionally he'd hole up in one of the decrepit houses in the neighboring town, which put him nose to nose with the rusting robot with the English accent, but his sarcastic wit flew right over the optical sensors of the obstructively obtuse robot.  With a sigh, he cracked his neck and languidly brought the bottle of Nuka Cola to his lips.  It had been seven days, if his counting was worth anything. 

So far, the anonymous tip the Railroad had received was correct.  There were Gen 1 synths patrolling the top of a very obvious vault.  Deacon's blue eyes nearly burst out of his skull when he first saw the hulking gear on the ground.  Most vaults were nestled in old caves, often missed by the untrained eye.  It was a purely tactical move. If the residents somehow managed to survive the heinous experiments that Vault-Tec forced up them, the cave offered shelter from the wastelanders who would come knocking at their door.  This one, however, was different.  It _screamed, "_ Come and get us."  He was curious what sorts of experiments could possibly be hiding beneath that carved metal plate.

As was mentioned, a patrol of two to three Gen 1's guarded the entrance.  One would usually scout the small trail leading up to the vault, and the remaining would walk a slow, cautious circle around it.  All wielded laser rifles charged and ready for anything.   _For what, though?_ Deacon thought.   _What could they be hiding down there?_ The patrols switched over every 12 hours, give or take, although Deacon was unsure why a unfatiguable watchdog would need to swap out.  Thus had been the routine for the past week, with no deviations for changes.  It was boring, mundane work.  Rumors had circulated that someone had entered the vault over sixty years ago, but it started to sound more and more untrue, especially since Deacon kept adding ridiculous clauses.  Last he heard, the rumor was that a Deathclaw had made its nest down there, and its eggs were made of pure gold.

 

Part of him wanted to try and see what the hubub was for himself.  Even if he went down in a blaze of glory, it would be worth it for a story.  Plus it wasn't like he valued his life much anyway.  Not since Barbara.  Even the pride in the Railroad paled in comparison to the life that she had breathed into him.  Now, she was gone.  All that was left was a hollow shell of sarcasm and self-loathing.  

Fortunately for Deacon, this particular morning was worth living for.  The sun was creeping up past the sloping hill that housed the vault, casting the eye in a rainbow of tangerine orange, dahlia purple, and primrose pink.  Dew clung to the few sprouts of organic life that thrived in the desolate brown earth.  The air was cool from the night, but the sun promised a warm day, creating a contrast against his exposed arms.  It might be boring, but at least it gave him a chance to relax.   _Hell,_ he thought, _that's probably why they sent me out here._   

 

Another sip from his cola and the bottle was empty.  Part of him considered throwing the empty glass towards the patrol, just for shits and giggles, but something inside him told him to be patient.  Time passed slowly as the units made their circles, waving their weapons at nonexistent threats.  It still surprised him that such high-tech killers hadn't determined his existence.  Didn't they have heat sensors or something?  It was a gradual decline, but Deacon noticed that this morning, the Gen 1s kept pausing in their step and tilting their heads, as if catching the whisperings of some noise on the eastern breeze.  Over the course of a few hours it came more and more often, and their heads would turn not towards the road, but towards the vault below them.  Deacon, curious, pulled up his sunglasses, placed his feet on the ground, and leaned forward in the seat, front row to what would hopefully be a spectacular show.  

 

The sun was high in the blue sky when a rumbling started, deep within the Earth.  It was so subtle that Deacon only noticed it in the quiet chink of his glass bottle, resting against the chair.  The Gen 1's, though, noticed it clearly.  They bunched together towards the edge of the Vault.  If their mechanical faces could have held any expression, it would have been one of pure shock.  As for the spy, his face held one of curiosity, devoid of fear.  The rumbling grew stronger and louder, and soon the earth was shaking so violently, it was as if the earth would crack beneath them and let them fall to their death.  The noise was so deafening, and the tremor so distracting that Deacon rose from his shelter and snuck through the woods, stumbling over shaking rocks and limbs, until he reached a tree just on the outskirts of the entrance.

 

The earth did crack, in the very center of the vault door, as the two pieces came apart, revealing a dark abyss below.  Slowly, however a figure came into view.  At first, all he could make out was brilliant blue and yellow, crouched on a rising platform.  As the elevator reached its final position, he could see that it was a woman, hiding her face from the overhead sun.  Her frame was thin, and the vault suit she wore, which bore the number "111" was sagging from the frail frame of her body.  Her hair was blond and tied up into a style of bun that he had only seen in old books.  

 

Everything fell silent and still for a few breaths as the creature stood, shading her eyes with her hand, and got a look around.  Deacon noticed a look of horror on her face, and with everything he knew about life before the war, he couldn't imagine the shock that this must be - the destroyed homes, the crumbled streets, and the loss of humanity.  Then, a gut-wrenching scream pierced the still air, coming from the lips of the Commonwealth's newest addition.  This was the trigger that got the Gen 1's moving again.  They started towards her as she looked on, frozen in place by her horror.  Instinctively, Deacon moved into action.  He raised his laser rifle and ran towards them, letting out a cry to try and get the attention of the attackers.  To his benefit, they turned raised their weapons towards him.  In this pause, he was able to pick one off and it fell, splashing blue coolant on its comrades.  The two remaining started to charge him, seeing him as a threat to their prize.  Pain burned his arm as a laser grazed his bicep, leaving singed fabric in its wake.  Deacon raised his weapon again, and shot the second synth in the leg.  It tumbled down, weapon still trained on him.  Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled for the Stealth Boy and pushed the button.  Immediately, he was surrounded by the reflecting forcefield and the two synths struggled to keep their aim on him.  

 

Quickly, he made his way to the Vault dweller, knowing that they wouldn't fire needlessly in her direction.  They clearly had some purpose with her.  Firing another round of shots, the third synth went down, leaving the second on its knees, searching frantically for its assailant.  Deacon took this time to show off.  He surged up towards the Gen 1 and smashed the butt of his laser rifle into its face, which exploded into shards of plastic, metal, wire and coolant, which sprayed and stained the white of his shirt.  

 

It wasn't a moment too soon that his Stealth Boy finished its cycle and he popped back into view.  The vault dweller looked at him, mouth quivering, and gaping open.  Her hands slowly rose in a sign of defense.

 

"P-p-please don't h-h-hurt me," she shuddered, tears streaming down her face.  With a wry smile, Deacon gingerly stooped down, placing his rifle on the ground, and stood back up with hands mirroring her own.

 

"I'm not gonna hurt ya," he drawled, taking a tentative step forward.  She seemed to shrink slightly, trying to hide, but didn't step back.   _There's the bit of fight_ , he thought admiringly.  Through calculated, painstaking steps, he drew closer until they were face to face.  From this distance, he could see the jade green of her eyes, glistening with watery tears.  A few freckles decorated her nose and cheeks.  The mouth, quivering, was just barely pink.  As for her age, she couldn't be that old, maybe 21?  22?  Deacon could never be sure since most people pegged him decades below his age.  A few tendrils of her blond hair had come loose from her bun and framed her face.  Something paternal wanted to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, but he refrained, and instead offered a warm smile and his hand.

 

"Deacon," he simply stated.  She stared at his hand like she hadn't expected such civility, and then extended her own towards him.  It was cold, freezing cold.

 

"Virginia," she answered quietly.  

 

They shook hands and Deacon watched as Virginia wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her arms.  

 

"You cold?" he asked, surprised.  Even though it was early Spring, it had already gotten relatively warm.

 

"Freezing."   _Guess they have some kind of super duper air conditioning_ , he thought to himself.

 

"C'mon, let's get you warmed up," he said with a smile, and to his surprise, her light footsteps followed him as he walked down the hill towards his small shelter.


End file.
